Happiness
by AlwaysLaughing.x
Summary: Happiness is a far-fetched concept. When you're young, you don't have to worry much about anything, and you're never really unhappy. As you grow, life begins to throw problems left and right at you, and after awhile, you find yourself just merely surviving. But what happens when one life-changing moment wakes you up, and you find the will to not survive, but thrive?


**Hey, lovely people of FanFiction! :)**

 **This idea came to my mind, so I decided to just write a little one-shot.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I down't own anything besides the plot, Lady Piggleton, and anyone else you're not familiar with ;)**

* * *

I smile with my phone cradled in between my ear and shoulder as I play with my sweet teacup piglet, Lady Piggleton. "I can't wait to see you, either, Shar. It's been too long."

" _It wouldn't have to be so long; you were the one who decided to move to Maine. Who the hell lives in Maine?"_

I giggle and shake my head, tossing a ball for Lady to scramble after. "Maine is peaceful, Shar," I state. I clear my throat. "I need peace."

There is a brief moment of quietness. _"How are you holding up?"_ She asks, switching from the obnoxious snob to my caring best friend.

I bite my lip before Lady Piggleton comes snorting at my hand resting on the couch, hoping to find treats. I sigh as I scratch her head. "I'll be okay," I pause, "eventually." She goes to say something, but I can't handle this conversation any longer. "Shar, I gotta go. My house phone's ringing. Love you, bye." I end the call and throw my phone on the couch.

I rub my temples as that's how almost all my calls I have received in the past four months have been like. I shouldn't be surprised that all of my friends and my mom are worried since I decided to move to Kennebunkport, Maine after I graduated in June; they all thought I'd follow him..

I shake my head.

 _Don't think about him. Don't think about him._

Maine has given me the space I've always so desperately, yet secretly, craved for. I live in remote solitude; only conversing with my employees, neighbors, and Lady Piggleton.

And I'm perfectly content with it.

I walk over to the front door and grab Lady's yellow leash. "Come here, Lady Piggleton," I coo, bending slightly and patting my thighs.

The three month old pig comes running over as though lightning struck her posterior. I smile and bend down, attaching the leash to her collar. I pet her coarse light pink hair for a moment before standing up and opening the front door.

Immediately, I'm hit with the smell of the salty ocean water. I close my eyes and breathe in the invigorating smell. I exhale and open my eyes, and I look down at my pig. She snorts happily as she investigates the front yard. "Come on, Lady, let's go to the store. Mama has to do inventory."

Oh, that's another thing everyone was surprised about. Instead of pursuing a career in law like everyone thought, I decided to open up a small pastry shop. After my freshmen year at Stanford, I had realized that law wasn't my real passion; making baked goods and little treats were. Only two people knew about it: Chad and He Whom Shall Not Be Named.

"Gabi!" I hear a little girl squeal, and I turn around to see Ivory McStevens, the seven-year-old girl whose parents own the flower shop next to my bakery.

I give her a small smile as she runs towards Lady Piggleton and me. I open my arms and embrace her as she wraps her arms around my waist tightly. "Hey, Ivory, how are you this morning?"

She steps back and bends down to pet Lady Piggleton, who oinks in bliss. "I'm good. I was playing in the front yard, and I saw you leave with Lady. Are you going to the bakery?" she asks, looking up at me, as the wind whips her honey-colored, shoulder length hair in her face.

I nod, and she stands up. "Yeah, I have to check on some things. You want to come? I'll make you a treat," I offer in a sing-song voice.

She grins and nods her head enthusiastically. "Yeah! But can I walk Lady Piggleton? Please, Gabi, please?" Ivory begs, her green eyes locking with my brown orbs. I hand her Lady's leash, knowing how much she loves her. She grabs it excitedly before grasping my hand.

I glance down at her, and she looks up at me; I can't help but my smile at her delight.

As we walk into our small town, Ivory babbles all about her days in the second-grade. I nod occasionally, not really paying attention as my mind wanders other place. Ivory has been a big part of my distraction for the last four months. She is filled with so much energy and spirit, and it helps me feel better about myself, forgetting how broken into pieces I am.

"Gabi?" She tugs on my jacket.

Her voice breaks me from my thoughts, thankfully, as I was headed into dangerous, unwanted territory. "What?"

Ivory points to the bakery. "We're here," she states. I reach into my jacket pockets, fumbling for my keys. I grab them and choose the correct key before unlocking my bakery, and I hold it open for her and Lady. Once they enter, I relock the door and toss my keys on the counter as Ivory pulls herself up onto the bar stool, bringing Lady Piggleton with her.

I shake my head with a small smile as I go to the back of the bakery where my supplies are located and grab flour, baking soda, vanilla extract, and sugar. I walk over to the fridge and grab an egg and a stick of butter. I make my way back up to the front before placing the ingredients in my work area. I look over to where Ivory and Lady are, and I start to panic as neither are in the seats. "Ivory?" I call, wringing my hands together.

"Down here," she says, and I look over the counter to see her playing with Lady. I exhale and press my hand against my rapid beating heart.

"Don't scare me like that!"

Ivory grins, and I shake my head as she goes back to playing with Lady.

I sigh before crouching down and grabbing two bowls and a cookie sheet. I stand up and place them over in my work area before going back to the back and preheating one of the ovens to 375ºF. I come back to the front and grab two whisks, and I wash my hands before I get started on the cookies. I mix the flour and baking soda in a bowl before I grab the butter and put it into the microwave to soften a bit.

"Hey, Gabi?" Ivory calls as I pull the butter out of the microwave and put it into another bowl.

"Yeah?" I answer over my shoulder as I pour the right amount of sugar in the bowl before grabbing the other whisk and mixing the two until it's smooth.

"Can you decorate the goodies like the ones in the cases and displays?"

I smile slightly as I add the vanilla extract and egg. "Of course, silly girl. What do you want on them?" I grab the other bowl and add in the dry ingredients before quickly moving over to the silverware drawer and pulling out a fork.

"How many are you making?"

Once the ingredient are all smoothed together, I start rolling the cookies into small balls. "A dozen. You wanna come help me?" She doesn't answer, but I smile secretively as I hear murmur to Lady before running over. "Wash your hands." She obeys, and I drag a stool over for her to stand on.

"I want Lady Piggleton on one cookie, a palm tree on another, hearts on a couple, dogs on a few, flowers on three, and our initials on the last two!" Ivory answers my earlier question as we place the last of the balls on the tray. I nod my head and grab the cookie sheet, heading over to the ovens. I open the oven I preheated and slide the tray in before setting the timer for eight minutes.

"Ivory, wash your hands again! I'll be doing some stuff in the back while the cookies bake, stay up there," I call as I wash my hands in the back sink.

"Okay!" she replies, and I dry my hands off. I grab the clipboard with all the stock written on it and begin taking inventory.

* * *

"I'll see you later, Ivory, okay?" I say as we arrive at her house an hour later.

Ivory grins and nods. "Thanks for the cookies, Gabi!" she exclaims.

I smile and wink at her. "No, thank you. If you wouldn't have came, Lady Piggleton over here wouldn't have gotten her goodies," I reply, gesturing to the half-asleep Lady Piggleton.

She giggles and rubs my pig's stomach. "Bye, Lady," she stands up and hugs me. "Bye, Gabi."

"Bye, Ivory." She smiles again before going into her house.

I bend down and pick up the sleepy piglet. "Come on, Lady, I know you're worn out." I walk across the street to my house and grab my keys from pocket, and I unlock my house and walk in. As I walk in, my house phone rings, but the answering machine picks it up as I take the leash off off of Lady Piggleton.

" _Gabs, what the hell?! Why haven't you been picking up your cell_ or _house phone? Check your messages. We've tried to reach you so many times. You need to get to Albuquerque. Quick."_

I furrow my eyebrows. That was weird. Lady Piggleton drags herself to my room, where her bed is located, and I walk over to the couch and grab my phone. My eyes widen as I see all the calls, texts, and voicemails I have from Sharpay, Taylor, and Chad. I immediately call Chad as he was the last person to call my cell. I press my phone against my ear and bite my lip.

" _Ella! Where the hell have you been?!"_

"I left my phone here when I went to the bakery. Tell me what the hell is going on, Chad Reivers Danforth!" I demand.

There's small pause. _"You didn't read or listen to our messages?"_

"No! Just tell me, dammit!" I snap.

Chad sighs. _"It's your mom, El._ _She got in a car accident.. It's not good."_

I sink down to my couch. "What?" I whisper, the phone slipping from my hand. My dear Mami..

" _Ella! Gabriella!"_ I hear Chad yell from the phone, and I absently lean down and disconnect the call. I blindly walk over to my computer and pull up a site for a plane. I find the soonest flight Albuquerque, and I see that the next one departs at nine-thirty. It's eight now. I buy the ticket and a cab, not caring how expensive either are, and let it print. I walk to my room and grab a duffel bag. I start throwing clothes in before I grab my toothbrush, phone charger, and hair brush. I go over to my bedside table and open the drawer, pulling something out and tossing it in my bag. I grab my bag and go back into the living room, and I grab my phone. I go to my contacts and find Mary Sylvester. Mary's one of my employees, my most trusted employee, and she used to own a bakery before her husband died last year.

" _Hello?"_

"Hi, Mary, it's Gabi. I need a favor," I state, no emotion evident in my voice.

" _Hey, Gabi! Anything, what is it?"_

"My mother got in an accident, and I need to go to Albuquerque immediately. I trust you the most, so I was wondering if you'd look over the bakery for me until I get back?"

" _Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Yes, I'll look over the bakery!"_

I nod my head. "Thanks, Mary," I disconnect the call, and I let out a breath. I slide my phone in my pocket, grab my wallet, ticket, keys and bag, and I head out the door. I lock my house before I walk over to the McStevens' house.

I knock on the door, and Susie McStevens opens the door. She smiles at me. "Hey, Gabi! What's up?" She asks, leaning against her door frame.

"I need to leave for Albuquerque. My mom's been in an accident. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you please watch Lady Piggleton for me? I'll pay you guys when I get back. She has food and water; you just need to refill her bowls and play with her," the words spill from my mouth.

She looks at me in sympathy and places her hand on my shoulder. "Of course we will watch her. Ivory absolutely adores Lady Piggleton. And don't worry about paying us! You always let Ivory come over to the shop!"

I shoot her a look filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much! I need to go, my plane leaves soon."

Susie nods. "Go along then. I hope your mom gets better, dear," she says earnestly, and I hand her my house key. I give her my thanks before going back over to my house and waiting on my taxi.

It arrives a few moments later, and I slide in. "Where to, miss?" the man asks.

"Portland International Jetport, please." He nods, and we're on our way.

 _My mom will be okay, she's a fighter. My mom will be okay, she's a fighter. My mom will be okay, she's a fighter. My mom will be okay, she's a fighter. My mom will be okay, she's a fighter._

* * *

I step off the plane six and a half hours later, clutching my bag tightly. I scan the Albuquerque International Sunport for the faces of my best friends. I had texted Taylor before my takeoff, and she had replied that her, Sharpay, or Chad would be there to pick me up.

I frown as I don't see any of them, and I turn on my phone. Nothing. Weird.

"Gabi!" I spin around and see Taylor walking over to me in a Yale sweatshirt and yoga pants with her midnight black hair piled on top of her head.

"Hi, Tay," I murmur as she pulls me into her arms. I squeeze her before we step back.

She gives me a sad smile and hooks her arms with mine. "Come on, I'll take you to my house," she says. Her and Chad live in a cute, three-bedroom house that's just a few miles from East High, which was perfect for Chad. He will be replacing He Whom Shall Not Be Named's dad as the gym teacher and basketball coach next school year.

I shake my head and bite my lip. "I want to stay at my mom's house, please." Taylor nods sympathetically, and nothing else is said between us.

My mother, Ana, relocated back to Albuquerque due to her work after I graduated from Stanford. I also think she moved back because she thought I would follow her back home, and she'd be able to take care of me.

I scoff inwardly. I should have came back and taken care of _her_.

Taylor pulls into my mother's one-story brick house. Mami had decided to downsize, and our other house, the one with my precious balcony, had already been sold.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" she asks kindly.

I shake my head before leaning over the middle and hugging my best friend since junior year. "Thank you, Taylor," I whisper into her ear, tears prickling my eyes.

She rubs my back for a moment. "Anytime."

I pull away and give her a watery smile before getting out of the car. I go over to the garage and punch in the code, which is my Papi's birthday. As the garage opens, I turn back to Taylor and give her a wave as she backs out of the driveway. I turn back towards the garage and walk to the door leading into the house. I shut the garage before entering the quiet house.

I walk through the kitchen and pause at the entryway of the living room. The lamp by the light red fabric armchair was on with a black throw blanket resting on the seat, meaning that she must've read the newspaper or a book this morning while curled up in a comfy blanket. She never expected to be in a car accident; she thought she would come home after her long day at work and finish what she had started.

I blink back the tears, and I go over and shut the lamp off. I turn around and briskly move to the guest bedroom. I throw my bag on the ground before I climb into the bed that used to be mine. As soon as my head hits the pillow, my eyes slide shut, and I drift asleep.

* * *

"Ella." I'm woken up the next morning by Chad's gentle shaking.

I blink my eyes a few time, trying to clear the blurriness. "Hi, Chad," I sigh, stretching out my limbs.

He smiles sympathetically. "You ready to go to the hospital?" I sit up and yawn, rubbing my eyes. I nod my head as I get out of the bed. "Okay, I'll wait for you in the living room." I nod again, and he leaves the room.

I walk over to my bag and set it on the desk. I pause as I see a picture frame on the desk. I pick up the picture and suck in a breath. The picture is of my dad, mom, and me when I was five years old, just before Papi's health took a turn for the worst. I was sitting on top of my dad's shoulders while Mami had an arm around Papi and a hand on my knee, and we were all grinning at the camera. My lip quivers, and I close my eyes for a moment before slamming the frame down on the table.

Happiness is a far-fetched concept.

I change quickly into a Stanford shirt and Nike shorts. I run a brush through my unruly curls before I grab my toothbrush, wallet, and cell phone and go into the bathroom across the hall. I brush my teeth before walking to the living room.

Chad tucks his phone back into his pocket and stands up from the light red couch. "Ready?" he asks.

I exhale loudly and nod my head. "Yeah," I answer with a forced smile.

We exit through the garage, and I climb into Chad's Jeep Cherokee. Chad and I talk about work, life in Maine, life in Albuquerque, anything really, but I'm not really there in the conversation. My mind is on auto-pilot, just going through the motion.

Chad soon pulls into the hospital, and I jump down from his car. We walk silently in the hospital, to the elevator, and to my mother's room. As I go to open the door to my mother's room, Chad grips my arm, and I turn back to him with my eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

He itches his arm nervously. "Your mom.. she's not in good condition. She's awake, but they don't know how. The doctors are saying it's only a matter of time. There's machines everywhere, her head is bandaged, she's on oxygen-"

"I know what almost dead people look like, Chad, you don't have to protect me," I interrupt harshly. I bite my lip as that came out meaner than I meant. I sigh. "I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me, but I've been through this before." He nods in understanding, and I push open my mother's room.

Oh my God.

My eyes widen slightly as I take in my mother. Chad was right about everything she's on, but I couldn't prepare myself for this moment.

Mami is laying on the hospital bed, her dark Mexican skin now pale. She has bruises covering most of her skin, and her left arm and both legs are broken. She's so frail, just like Papi was in his last days.

" _Mija_ ," I hear my mother whisper. I break out of my trance and walk over to her, and I sit in the hard, plastic chair.

"Hi, Mami," I greet softly, grasping her right hand.

"You look so beautiful," she states weakly. "You have so much of your Papi in you."

I force the tears to stay down. "You've never told me that before."

She smiles sadly. "I've never had a reason to."

I close my eyes and shake my head before looking back at her. "Well, you don't have one now, either," I reply, my voice thick with emotion.

"My dear Gabi, I'm going to die," Mami rasps matter-of-factly, and I tremble. "Now, I need you to listen to me, _mija_ , okay?" I nod my head, and she rubs her thumb on my hand. "When I die, I want you to find your happiness," I go to interrupt her, but she glares at me. I let her go on. "I know you, Gabriella Ana Montez. You get attached to everyone around you, and you care about them and will protect them fiercely. When you were six," tears cloud both of our eyes, "I lost my husband, and you lost your Papi. We both lost a piece of us. Then, we came here, and I thought I had my whole Gabi again. But once again, you were broken to pieces after you and Troy broke-"

"Mami, please," I whimper. I can't talk about him; it still hurts too much.

"No, Gabriella, I _need_ to tell you this," she says sharply. I bite my lip and nod, and she continues, "After you and Troy broke up, you withdrew from everyone. You became this shell of yourself." She releases a haggard breath and looks at me, a few tears dripping down her face. "When I die, you have to go on living. You are a strong girl, and I know shit has happened to you. It's messed you up inside, but you have survived through it," she pauses, gripping my hand as tightly as she can (which is not that tight), "I don't want you to survive after this, Gabi. I'm asking; no, _begging_ you to _thrive_ after my death. I want you to be happy and blissful in your life. Whatever it takes, marrying a nice guy and having a bunch of kids or keeping your bakery and having amazing friends, I want you to be _happy_." Mami coughs, and I wipe at the tears that escaped my ducts. She looks at me, looking so weathered down. "Promise me, Gabriella."

I nod my head, and she smiles weakly, leaning back on her pillow with eyes closed. "I don't want you to die, Mami," I whisper, my voice quivering.

"I'll be with your Papi again, _mija_ , I'll be happy." There's that damn word again.

I shake my head, the reality of what's happening to my mother hitting me, and stand up, glaring down at her. "What about _me_ , Mami? Huh? You can't expect me to be fucking happy when I have no family left. You fight, dammit, fight!" I shriek in desperation.

Mami doesn't answer. I look at her, moving closer to her, when her eyes fly open before they roll to the back of her head. Her machines start beeping wildly as her body starts convulsing. I'm frozen, watching in horror as my mother has a seizure. When the nurses start to move me, I wake up. "MAMI!" I scream, the tears I tried so hard to keep back start falling freely. "MAMI!" I start thrashing in the male nurse's arms, and I manage to break free and run back to my mom. I start stroking her hair as the tears fall on her face.

"Get her out!" a doctor yells. Someone starts pulling me away again as the doctor starts compressing her.

"I love you, Mami! I'm so sorry! I love you!" I cry out. Before the door is slammed in my face, I watch as the machine connected to my mom's heart flatlines. I spin into Chad's arms and sob into his chest as his arms hold me tightly.

My mother's dead. My mother's dead, and all I can wish for is that I was in someone else's arms than Chad's.

* * *

My mother's funeral is today.

It's been two days since she passed. The cause of death was an aneurysm, which caused her to have the stroke.

The man who caused the crash was drunk, and he didn't have a scratch.

"Gabriella," Sharpay, garbed in a black dress that clings to her curves with a black pillbox hat atop her curled blonde locks, says gently, "you need to get dressed. We need to be at funeral home soon." I don't answer, and she sighs before she pulls me up from the couch. I follow her blindly into the large pink bedroom, and she starts to pull off my shirt. I unbutton my jeans absent-mindedly as she goes over to her closet and pulls out the black dress she bought for me. The dress is sleeveless with a bateau neckline and a full skirt of pleats that ends slightly above my knees. She unzips it for me, and I pull it over my head.

"Sharpay? Gabs?" Taylor knocks on the door of Sharpay's old bedroom before she pushes it open, and Sharpay zips the back of my dress. Taylor walks in, wearing a strapless black dress with her hair in a low updo. She comes over and kisses my cheek before she looks up at Sharpay. "I've got the makeup. You do her hair." Sharpay nods, and I become their doll.

Oh well, it's better than being forced to talk.

Thirty minutes later, Sharpay has managed to tame my wild, coily hair into loose curls, and Taylor added a shimmer of eyeshadow to my lids, paint my lips with a skin tone lipstick, lengthen my eyelashes with mascara, and accentuate my high cheekbones with blush. I look pretty, but I don't _feel_ pretty.

I don't feel anything.

Since I'm catatonic, I don't notice Taylor slide on black heels, nor do I notice Sharpay slide on black crocheted gloves. I break from my blank state when I feel Sharpay try to place a necklace on my neck. "No!" I croak, my throat dry from not being used for two days. They both look at me in concern, but I ignore them as I walk over to my duffel bag. I dump everything out and begin searching for it.

"Gabi?"

"Sh!" I move a Berkeley shirt out of the way, and there it is. I pick it up tenderly as I haven't seen nor worn it since June. It's been stowed away in my bedside drawer, and I turn back to my best friends. "I want to wear this," I say quietly, holding it up for them to see.

They both gasp as they realize what it is. I smile sadly as I rub the T with the ruby diamond hanging from the silver chain. "It's the necklace.." Sharpay breathes, and I nod.

" _Brie, I want you to have this as a symbol that I'll always be yours and be your rock if I can't be there for you someday."_

Taylor comes over, and I hand it to her. I lift my hair, and she clasps the necklace. I finger the T as I look down at the necklace he gave me for our six-month anniversary. I sigh and tuck it behind my dress. I need my rock today, and I'll take him however I can.

Taylor offers me her hand, and I take it. She helps me off the floor, and I hold my hands together. "Ready?" Sharpay asks.

"Will I ever be?" I muse. I roll my lips together and walk out of the room.

* * *

"Now Ana's daughter, Gabriella Montez, will be coming up to say a few words."

I can't stop looking at her. The bruises on her face magically disappeared, and her hair is much shorter than it used to be.

"Ella." Chad nudges me, jolting me from my thoughts. I look at him, and he nods to the podium. I glance around to see everyone staring at me. I clear my throat, grab my cards, and walk to the podium, nodding at the priest.

I take a deep breath and run my hands along the sides of the podium. "My mother's death was very.. abrupt and unexpected," I begin, looking at the faces who seem so unrecognizable. I look down at my index cards and bite my lip; I should just say what I feel. Isn't that the point of these things? "My mother told me once how we both lost a piece of ourselves when my father died when I was six. She was madly in love with the guy," I chuckle bitterly. "She was so in love with him that she decided to give up her light, just so she could be with him. She wanted him, not me, because he made her-" I stop as the door opens, and my breath catches in my throat as his Atlantic blue pools meet with dark sepia orbs. "He made her _happy_ , and I didn't," I finish, taking in all the scandalized faces. I look around frantically, seeing the comforting faces of Chad, Taylor, and Sharpay before my eyes float back to his. "I'm sorry," I say; to the crowd or to him, I don't know. I turn and run out the doors nearest to me. I run down the corridor, covering my face with my hands. I push the door open with my shoulder, and I run until I trip on a root. I skid to the ground, and tears slip down my face.

I feel him before I hear him.

"Gabriella," he breathes.

"Troy," I whimper. His slack-covered knees hit the dirt next to me, and I can smell his scent that I can only described as _Troy_. My hiccups and his breathing are the only sounds between us.

"Brie." His hand touches my back, and I suck in a breath as the familiar sparks course through me.

All of a sudden, I feel a rush of anger, and I push his arm from me. "No! You don't get to touch me o-or call me that!" I quickly scramble up, turning away from him.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion and hurt as he stands up also. "Gabriella?"

I cross my arms in front of me before asking over my shoulder, "Why are you here?" I demand to know.

"You know why."

I throw my hands up in frustration. "No, I don't!" I spin around and jab him in the chest with my finger. "You ended it. You left me. You _broke_ me! You don't get to come back here." I fold my arms again, my eyes narrowed. "You don't get to come back here," I repeat, my gaze becoming blurred. My face is wet for some reason, and there is this God-awful sound coming from somewhere.

Only when I notice him moving closer to me, do I realize that I'm sobbing. His arms wrap around me, and I pound his chest with my fists. "You left me! You left me!"

"Shhh, Brie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I collapse into his chest, and we sink to the ground. "My dad left me, my mom left me, and you left me. Why does everyone leave me?" I whisper, still shaking with sobs.

He presses a kiss to my hair and pulls me tighter. "You don't deserve to be left. You're perfect, and some people, like me, don't recognize what's in front of them before it's too late." I pull back, and he smiles sadly at me and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Maybe it's time to talk," I suggest hoarsely.

"Brie, your mom just died. It can wait."

I shake my head. "No, my mother is being shipped to San Diego to be buried next to my dad. If we don't talk today, we never will," I reason.

Troy hesitates before nodding his head, and we stand up. I cling to his waist as his arm wraps around my shoulder. We silently walk together, and when we stop, a laugh bubbles up from my throat. "What?" he asks, a knowing smile on his face.

"You still have her," I whisper, running a hand along the rusty blue truck.

"Of course," he states proudly. I look at him with a smile, but I bite my lip as he was already looking at me. He clears his throat, and I look down. "Come on, let's go. My parents are probably still.." he motions to the funeral home, and I nod before we get into the truck.

It takes longer than it should, but we arrive to Troy's childhood home. He climbs over the truck and opens my door, just like he always did in high school. I send him a small smile as I get out of the car, and we walk into the house.

Troy leads me to his room, and I look around, noting that nothing changed since I was here last. I felt a large sense of relief when I see all of our pictures still up, and the photo of me from junior year is still on his bedside table. "As you can see, Ma hasn't really moved anything around." I turn back to see him rubbing the back of his neck. I nod my head before going over and sitting on his desk chair. Troy sits on his bed.

"I'm sorry," he blurts. I raise my eyebrow, Troy never blurts anything, but I don't say anything. "I-i should've never gone."

I have to say something. "Yes, you should have. Not many people get the opportunity to get a job offer immediately out of college."

He shakes his head. "Yes, they do, but not jobs in Africa."

I nod my head, and he stands up and paces around the room. "I'm happy for you that you went to Africa; you got much more learning experience there than any medical school could provide. You can go straight into your residency," I say monotonously. Of course, I used that stupid word.

"Dammit, Gabriella, I don't give two shits about my career! Not when it means that I had to lose you!" he yells.

My eyes widen. What? I suddenly glare at him, anger pumping through my veins. "You _left_ me, Troy. You picked Africa over me. You broke me, but I'm all put back together now," I lie. I shake my head. "You don't get to waltz back here, and expect me to forgive you." Oh, but he can, and he dmost know that by now.

"I just want you to forgive me in time; I'll spend my whole life working to gain your forgiveness," he confesses. "I know I hurt you when I chose Africa, but," he takes a deep breath. "You once asked me what was most important to me, and I said saving people's lives," he pauses. "Ask me again."

My breath shallows, and I swallow hard. "What's most important to you, Troy?" I hold my breath.

His face breaks out into a dazzling smile. "You, Gabriella, it's always been you," he answers, his oh so blue eyes piercing through me. "I just lost sight of that."

I stand up and walk over to him. I stroke his cheek. "I forgive you, Troy." He leans into my hand. I smile up at him like he's my whole world; let's face it, he is. "I love you," I state honestly.

"I love you, too," he leans down and captures my mouth with his, creating the fireworks I missed so much.

* * *

 _Ten years later..._

I watch with a large smile out the French doors as my oldest child who's nine, Analiese, and my only son, Alexander, who's seven, play with Lady Piggleton and our new pig, Mr. Bubbles, on the beach outside our Kennebunkport home.

I feel two small tugs on my sundress, and I look down from the window at my two daughters, Penelope and Isabella, whom are both two years old. "Hi, my babies," I coo, holding out my hands for them both to take.

They both grip my hands. "Hi, Mommy," Isabella answers, sticking her thumb in her mouth. I smile as we walk over to the couch in the family room. I press a hand to my thirty-nine week belly as I slowly sit on the couch, and I rub out a sore spot on the side of my stomach. The twins clamber up onto the couch and snuggle close to me.

"We tired," Penelope mumbles, pressing her face into my stomach. I laugh softly as I stroke their hair.

"Then go to sleep; we can take a small nap before dinner." They both oblige, and their small snores are the only sounds in the room.

I smile to myself as I think about the past decade. Troy moved to Kennebunkport with me and got a job at a hospital in Portland, then we got married six months later. A year later, we welcomed Analiese Grace, naming her after my mother and Troy's grandma, Elise. Analiese is the perfect mixture of Troy and me. She has my curly locks that are colored medium brown and my nose, and she has her father's bright blue eyes and crooked smile. She's also a little genius, and she enjoys softball.

Then came my perfect replica of Troy, Alexander Troy, or more commonly known as Alex, two years after Analiese. He is my little Troy; he loves basketball, is a little womanizer, and has a heart full of gold.

After those two, we decided to wait a little longer before we had another child. We love all of of our children, but we also love our sleep.

On a December night in Maine when there was a large snow blizzard, Isabella Marie and Penelope Brie were brought into this world with the help of their dad; we were snowed in, so Troy had to deliver the twins by himself. Isabella makes Troy supremely happy since she looks just like me. Penelope has Troy's straight locks, but her hair is the same color as mine. Her eyes are a bright emerald green; this came as a shock to all of us, but it makes her even more lovable.

Now, we are waiting for our last Bolton to join the family, and he or she is due to be here sometime next month. Our little baby will finish off our clan to a perfect five children.

"Brie," I hear someone whisper in my ear.

"Hm?" I mumble with my eyes still closed.

"You need to come to bed, love, it's eleven o'clock," Troy whispers in my ear. My eyes flutter open, and I look into my husband of almost ten years' big blue eyes. He flashes his pearly whites at me as he strokes both my stomach and forehead.

I rub my eyes before holding my hands out to him. He gladly takes my hands and pulls me up from the couch. "Are all the kids in bed?" I ask, slightly leaning into him.

He nods. "Yep, I put them all to bed a couple hours ago," he answers, leading me into the kitchen. I sit on the barstool, and he walks over to the pantry and grabs something before he goes over to the fridge and grabs something. I grin sleepily as he brings me over the peanut butter and pickles; my latest craving. I greedily open both jars, and I dip my pickle in the peanut butter as I shove it in my mouth.

"I love you," Troy says randomly with a dreamy smile on his features, leaning against the island.

I swallow before beaming at him. "I lo-" I stop, and my face contorts with pain. I press my hand against my stomach, trying to stop the immense pain.

"Brie?" he asks, his voice full of concern. I slide off the chair, and then I feel liquid start to drip down my leg. Troy and I look at each other. "It's time," he says, a smile growing over his face.

I shake my head stubbornly. "No, it can't be time! The baby's not due for another month!" I shriek, the pain subsiding. All of my children have arrived right around when they were due; this baby will, too.

"Gabi, you have to-"

"No, I don't!" I interrupt, crossing my arms.

"Gabriella Ana Bolton, it _is_ time, and you _will_ have our son," he says sharply, narrowing his eyes at me.

My eyes widen, and they start to tear up. "We're having a boy?" I whisper hopefully.

Troy's face softens, and he sends me a sheepish smile. "Yes, baby, we're having a little boy. I'm sorry I let it slip." He rubs the back of his neck.

I shake my head, sending him a small smile. "It's okay." He gathers me in his arms and places a kiss on my forehead.

Suddenly, I feel the well-to-known pain of contractions, and I cripple in his arms. I cry out in pain before Troy tightens his grip on me. "Breathe, baby, you have to breathe," he instructs in my ear. "C'mon, Brie, you know how to do this. Do it with me; in, out, in, out." He breathes deeply, pulling away slightly so I could see him.

I look into his eyes and force myself to match his breaths. I start to calm down, and the pain fades away. He smiles and rubs my cheek. "I'm tired."

Troy chuckles and kisses my lips briefly. "We need to get you to the hospital. Your water has already broken and this is your fourth pregnancy, so things will move very quickly," he informs.

I nod my head. "Okay, but what about the kids? We can't leave them here, nor can we take them to the hospital. Your parents are all the way in Albuquerque, and so is Chad, Taylor, and their kids. Sharpay's in New York with her family. Oh God, Troy, who's going to watch them?" I freak out a little, my hormones catching up with me. I grip onto the barstool and grit my teeth as another contraction comes. "Owww," I moan.

"I'll call Ivory. She's a seventeen year old; she should be awake at eleven thirty in the morning," he states. I nod my head, panting slightly, and he grabs my phone from the counter and calls Ivory.

Something doesn't feel right. This hurts too much. I mean, obviously it's going to hurt like a bitch since it's labor, but none of my previous labors have hurt like this one. "You better be okay in there, little guy. Mommy couldn't take it if something happens to you," I whisper painfully to my stomach.

"She's coming over right now," he informs me, and I nod as the pain dulls once more.

"I'm going to go get our bags and check on the children, okay?" He nods, and I waddle over and up the stairs. I walk into mine and Troy's master bedroom and grab our two duffel bags.

A contraction comes again, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. I focus on my breathing, and within minutes, it's gone. I sigh in relief before walking out into the hallway.

Our house has five bedrooms and three bathrooms. Besides the master bedroom, the twins' room and the baby's rooms are upstairs while Analiese's and Alex's are on the main floor. I walk into the twins' room and smile softly as Isabella had migrated into Penelope's bed again. When the two were younger, we used to place them together in the same crib, and they still love to do it now. I walk over and kiss their foreheads lightly before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly.

Another contraction hits, and I know I have to leave for the hospital immediately. They're getting closer together and are a lot longer. I ride out the contraction and make my way down the stairs.

"Gabi!" Ivory calls when I enter the kitchen. I smile, which looks more like a grimace, at her. The seven-year-old girl I met a decade ago has blossomed into a beautiful young woman, whom now babysits my children and works at my bakery.

"Hi, Ivory. You know what to do?" I ask, knowing the answer, as Troy comes over and takes the bags from me.

She nods her head. "Yep! And Troy said he'll text me when the baby's born and when to bring the kids to the hospital," she relays.

I nod my head and look back at Troy. "I'm ready." He grins, and we wave to Ivory before we go out to our garage. He opens the door to our Tahoe and helps me in before running over and getting in the driver's seat. The garage door opens, and he backs out. I reach over and grip his hand as a contraction comes.

"It'll be alright, Brie," he assures, squeezing my hand.

I suck in deep breaths after my contraction's over. "Just get to the hospital," I snap. He answers by the car speeding up.

Twenty-five minutes later (a new record) and three contractions later, we finally arrive at the hospital. Troy grabs our bags before helping me out of the car and into the hospital. An auburn-haired woman in her mid-forties greets us as we walk into the hospital. "Hey, Troy, Gabi. Here, you need to sit in this," she says as she points to the wheelchair. I oblige and plop in the seat tiredly.

"Thanks for being with us, Dr. Wheetly," Troy says as he comes to stand behind me. I nod my head in agreement as I look at the woman who delivered Analiese and Alex.

Dr. Wheetly smiled at the two of us. "I'm just doing my job, and it's Izzie when you're not working," she scolds Troy. He rubs the back of his neck before she turns to me. "Now, Gabi, how far apart are your contractions?"

I go to answer, but another one rips through, causing me to moan in pain. Troy grabs my hand, and I squeeze his, trying to keep breathing deeply.

"They're about five minutes apart and last roughly two and a half minutes," he answers for me.

"It hurts," I gasp, hoping Izzie understands.

She smiles sympathetically. "That's the joy of labor, my dear. Let's get you into a room and get you checked out." I sigh once it's over; she didn't get what I was saying. Troy wheels me to the elevator, and the three of us go up to the maternity ward.

Once we get into a room, Troy helps me into the bathroom and assists me in putting on the gown. I bite my lip as the pain comes again. "I want it to stop," I cry.

He squeezes my hand and runs his hand up and down my arm. "Shh, baby, it'll be over soon," he comforts. He continues whispering things until it stops, and I close my eyes as I lean against his chest. "You'll be fine, Brie, you and our baby will be fine," he continues reassuring me.

Why do I feel like one of us won't be fine?

He leads me back into the room and helps me into the bed. Nurses start attaching things to me, and Izzie wheels over on a chair. She sets my feet in the stirrups and checks my cervix. Even after four pregnancies, I still feel uncomfortable with her down there. She pulls out her hand and throws away her gloves, and Troy and I look at her expectantly. "You're already ten centimeters dilated, which means your baby will be here very shortly," She informs with a smile before a nurse places a new set of gloves on her hands.

"Is it okay for him to be ready this soon?" I ask worriedly, looking between my husband and Izzie.

Izzie nods at Troy, and he looks down at me, grabbing the hair tie from my rest. "You have most likely been in labor," he starts, pulling my hair in a bun, "so you have been dilating all day. Plus, this is your fourth pregnancy so your body has grown accustomed to pregnancy, and it's more prepared." I nod my head slowly, letting the information sink in. He kisses my temple. "So yes, it's okay for him to be ready."

Dr. Wheetly clears her throat, and we look back to her. "I'm going to count, and when I get to three, I want you to push." I nod, and I grasp Troy's hand. He smiles encouragingly at me, and I send him a shaky smile of my own. "Okay, Gabi. One, two, three, push!" I push with all my might, squeezing Troy's hand hard. "Nice job, Gabi! You can stop!"

I pant slightly and lean back against the bed. "You got this, Brie," Troy states, handing me the cup of water. I greedily chug the drink before Troy places it back on the table.

"Ready?" I nod my head, and she starts counting again. I push, beads of sweat dripping down my face.

"Keep it up, Brie, you're doing amazing!"

Suddenly, a loud beeping sound starts to echo through the room. "What is that?" Izzie barks. I keep pushing, but not as hard.

"Fetal monitor. The fetus is going into fetal distress!"

"Stop pushing!" Troy and Izzie both yell, and I listen, frightened for my baby. Izzie goes over to the monitor, and she mutters a curse word before her and the nurse start talking. All I manage to catch is 'variable deceleration', 'heart rate', and 'cord'.

"Dammit," Troy whispers painfully.

I whip my head to look at him. "What is it, Troy?" He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. "Troy, please," I plead, tears gathering in my eyes.

"Gabriella." I look at Dr. Wheetly, who looks upset. "We need to get you into the OR and perform and emergency C-section," she says.

My stomach drops. "What?" She goes to repeat herself, but I stop her. "I'm not getting a C-section; the only way this baby's coming out is from me pushing."

"Brie-"

"No!" I snap. "I'm not having a damn C-section!"

Troy bends down so we're face to face. "Gabriella, you are getting the C-section. If you do not get the C-section, then you and the baby could possibly die, and I'm not about to let that happen," he states sharply, and my eyes widen. He composes himself and nods to someone, most likely Dr. Wheetly. "The umbilical cord is wrapped around his neck," he begins, and we start to move out of the room. "Normally, Dr. Wheetly would be able to just slip the cord off his neck, but it must've been stretched or compressed during pushing. This means the blood and oxygen supply for the baby has decreased, causing him to go into fetal distress. Sometimes, babies will be able to continue through the labor process, but since our baby's heart rate dropped rapidly, Dr. Wheetly has to get in there immediately and cut the cord," he explains, and I can't help but feel scared for our baby.

As Troy had explained what happened, we had managed to end up in the OR, and they had already set everything up. "I'll be right back, baby, I need to go get cleaned up." I nod, and he kisses my forehead before rushing off.

"Dr. Wheetly, my baby will be alright, won't he?" I ask shakily. The woman is almost unrecognizable; she's wearing a scrub cap with roses on it, and she has a mask on.

She smiles at me, at least I think she does since the corner of her eyes crinkle. "Yes, he will," she answers honestly. She turns around and starts giving out orders.

Troy comes back in his navy blue scrubs, a mask hanging from his neck, and his lucky scrub cap with basketballs on it. I giggle slightly when I see him, and I also giggle because the drugs are starting to kick in. "You're wearing your lucky scrub cap."

He grins at me. "It's always nice to have some luck with you," he states, and I let out a small laugh.

"Okay, Gabi, I'm going to start."

"Okay!" I giggle. "Troy?"

He strokes my cheek, careful to avoid hitting my cannula, since my hair's in a medical shower cap. "Yeah?"

"What are we going to name him?"

"I don't know; let's wait until we see him."

I nod my head and close my eyes for a moment. It's a little weird to be awake when someone's cut you open, and you're exposed to everyone. I open my eyes again to see Troy looking over the sheet to where Dr. Izzie's working. "How's it looking?" I ask sleepily.

He turn backs and smiles at me. "Our son will be here any minute. She'll pull him out a little so she can cut off the umbilical cord, and then, she'll proceed to pull him out. It'll take him a few moments, but he will cry. Then, I'll take him over to incubator and check him out since I'm his pediatrician, and Dr. Wheetly will close you up," he explains to me again. I'm so grateful I have a doctor for a husband.

"Dr. Bolton, I've cut the cord," Dr. Wheetly informs.

"I'll be there in a second," he states before looking back at me. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah," I pause, "but can you work on him I can see the two of you?"

He nods. "Of course, baby, we'll be right over there," he points behind him. He kisses my forehead before going to the other side of the sheet.

"It's a boy!" Dr. Wheetly announces, and my eyes start to tear up as I hear the wails of my son.

I see Troy take something from Dr. Wheetly, and he walks over with our crying baby boy. "He's perfect, Brie, absolutely perfect. He looks just like you," he whispers, tears in his eyes. He brings our son down, so I can place a kiss on his smooth forehead. His sobs subside into a quiet whimper, and I smile. "We'll be to the right of you; you'll be able to see us the whole time." I watch as Troy walks over and places our son in the warmer. I smile to myself as I watch my husband do what he loves to our son.

After surgery and a few hours of sleep, Troy texted Ivory to bring the kids to the hospital. I hold our son to my breast, and he immediately latches on and starts to suck. I toss a small towel over his head and my shoulder for privacy.

"Is it wrong for me to get turned on when you breastfeed?" Troy asks out of the blue.

I laugh loudly and shift the baby slightly. "Hmm, some people might think so, but I'm fine with it. Although, you won't be getting anything for awhile, so you might just want to think of other things."

He groans. "Don't remind me."

I giggle before changing the topic. "Did you text the Danforths, Baylors, and your parents?" I query.

He nods, rubbing our son's tiny foot. "Yep, they loved the name," he smirks.

I roll my eyes with a smile. "Okay, Troy, you're a name genius," I say mockingly.

He shrugs. "I know." I giggle again before I feel the baby stop sucking. I pull him away gently and hand Troy the burp rag and baby, and I adjust my bra and gown. As Troy finishes burping him, there's a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

The door swings open, and in comes my other babies. Troy quickly but gently places the baby in his little cot before Alex jumps on his back. "Hi, my loves," I greet with a smile.

"Hi, Mom," Analiese, who's holding Penelope, kisses my cheek before letting Penelope give me a slobbery smooch as well.

"Congrats, Gabi! I'd love to stay, but I need to get home," Ivory calls. I nod my head and thank her before she leaves.

"Where's baby?" Isabella questions, climbing beside Alex on the couch.

Troy stands up and picks up our baby from his cot. "He's right here," he walks over to the couch to show our kids, and Analiese and Penelope follow him as I watch on with a small smile.

"He's little, even smaller than P and Bella when they were born," Alex points out.

I giggle as the kids nod their heads in agreement. "He's little because he came a little earlier than everyone expected," Troy explains.

"What's his name?" Analiese asks curiously, touching the baby's fist.

Troy looks back at me, and I nod before he turns back to our children. "This is your baby brother, Gabriel Liam Bolton.

As I watch my family fuss over little Gabe, I smile to myself.

Maybe happiness isn't as far-fetched as I had thought. Even though life has thrown everything, it seems, at me, I can still find happiness in my perfect family. I have the beautiful man I call my husband to thank for that. Without him, I wouldn't even be where I am.

So yeah, I still go though rough times, and Troy and I fight, but that doesn't make me merely exist. I've learned how to see the good in the bad, and I've learned how to thrive in life, just like my mother asked.

I grin as I look at my family, my happiness.

* * *

 **So what'd you guys think about the one-shot? I sincerely hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you think in the reviews, constructive criticism is definitely welcome**

 **I'm currently working on a story right now for HSM, obviously TxG pairing, so keep your eyes out for that ;)**

 **-AlwaysLaughing.x**


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